Sugar and Spice and Everything America?
by PandaStarz
Summary: After getting beat up by France, England makes some imaginary friends who encourage him to use his dark magic in order to create a weapon to beat him. How could anything possibly go wrong?


Sugar and Spice and Everything... America?

A pair of green eyes widened before Britain slammed into a wall. He slumped to the ground, defeated.

"Hon hon hon," the Frenchman laughed, "I win again, Britain!" He walked away, smiling and laughing, leaving the dazed Brit in his wake.

Little stars danced behind Britain's lids. When he opened them, he discovered that they were still there.

"_England_," a voice sounded, "_England_…."

"Wh-who are you?" England's voice was hoarse.

The star-like apparitions grew and morphed into unique fairy-tale-like creatures.

"We're here to become your friends!" A child-like voice responded. England recognized that a pink and purple pixie was speaking.

"Thanks," he mumbled, getting to his feet. If he were going mad, he didn't acknowledge it.

"Got beat up by France again, huh?" one of the creatures asked sympathetically.

He nodded, sticking out his lower lip slightly (or perhaps it was just swollen; he'd taken a pretty hard hit to the jaw earlier).

"Why don't you get back at him?" another high-pitched voice called out. It was the unicorn.

"It never works," England limped away. The apparitions followed him.

"Why don't you invent a new weapon? Then you'd beat France for sure!" one of the creatures piped enthusiastically.

"Hmmm, a weapon," he mused, "I've never considered it. Usually, I just take offense at everything to start an argument and piss people off, then blindly engage in a fight which I end up losing and ultimately bring about my own destruction and weaken my empire."

He tapped his chin thoughtfully, and then winced, as he had a particularly nasty bruise in that spot. "But yes, I definitely have the ability to create a new weapon; I've dabbled in the dark arts before." He looked around at his newfound friends.

"Thanks guys; that spot of encouragement really got me going again! I'll get started on this right – AAAAARRGH!" England tripped over a rock and went sailing face-first into the mud.

"Are you alright, England?"

England lifted his head weakly, spat out some mud, and muttered something about France. His head then sank once more into the muddy ground.

* * *

><p>England grabbed a fistful of a white, grainy, sweet-smelling substance with one hand, and held a book to his nose with the other. He walked over to the glowing crest etched into the ground in the middle of the room.<p>

"Ah, let me see… where's the page with the ingredients?" he muttered absently, sprinkling the substance in his hand onto the ground. Finally selecting the correct page, he read aloud from his book: _The Powerpuff Girls._

_"Sugar and spice and everything…"_ as he spoke, he produced a pepper grinder out of somewhere and began twisting it (how he accomplished this with one hand remains a mystery).

"Now for the incantation." He set the first book down and selected another from a small bookshelf mounted on the wall. He blew the ancient dust off the cover; it read: _The Tales of Winnie the Pooh._

"Pig-gle-pooh-rob-i-a-mese-if-you-please, Pig-gle-pooh-rob-i-a-mese-if-you-please, PIG-GLE-POOH-ROB-I-A-MESE-IF-YOU-PLEASE," he chanted.

The symbol on the floor glowed brighter and brighter, and a small tornado formed at its white-hot core. A strong wind suddenly filled the room, and instantly the lights were dim again.

"Hahahahahaha!" England cackled like a mad person (if he weren't labeled as a mad person already) and he laid eyes on his creation as the smoke began to clear.

"Finally! I'll be able to beat that wanker so hard, he'll marvel at my cooking!" England proclaimed, not realizing that he'd just insulted himself. The smoke cleared some more.

England's thick eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm… Amewwica."

_Shit, this wasn't supposed to happen!_

"Where am I?" baby America wondered.

"Uhhh, nowhere," England said quickly, scooping up the toddler and heading for the door.

"Are you my… big brother?" England started. _B-big brother?_

_What have I done?_

* * *

><p>America crawled around on the floor of England's house as the Brit in question paced the room, agitated.<p>

_What am I supposed to do with this kid, _he wondered. _I can't just turn him away – I created him!_

America made his way into the kitchen, in search of food. _Perhaps another nation would…_

"Onii-chan!" England's thoughts quickly turned back to the present. Following the sound of the voice, he walked into the kitchen.

America looked up. "I'm hungry."

"W-w-wha- m-m-my…?" England stuttered, surveying the kitchen, which was in ruins. Packets of tea had been strewn all over the floor.

America pointed to his stomach. "Hungry."

In a daze, England followed a trail of tea that led out the open porch door into the backyard. Horrified, he saw that it led to a murky pool, with the faint odor of lemon and raspberry emanating from it.

England nearly fainted, then and there.

"NOOOOO!" England gasped, eyes riveted to a tea bag that had just surfaced. "America!" he rounded on the toddler who'd been following at his heels. "What did you _do_ to my tea?"

"I'm having a revolution," America explained unapologetically.

"Why? What could you _possibly_ have to be unhappy about?" England struggled to hold back tears as he glanced over at the tea-filled pool.

"I tasted your scones."

"And what the bloody hell is wrong with my scones?"

"You're kidding, right?" America's stomach chose that moment to churn violently, and he vomited hugely – all over England's shoes, that is.

"OUT!"

England grabbed America by the collar of his shirt and dragged him all the way through the house and to the front door.

"Aw, but big brother, I was only having a tea party!"

It would be a long while before England saw America again after that.

* * *

><p>England flopped onto the couch and placed his head into his hands.<p>

_What have I done? America will never be able to survive on his own! I should go out and search for him – he is my responsibility, after all. _England rose, but just before he headed out, the doorbell rang.

_Who could that be? _

England answered the door, and was greeted with the sight of a tall, blond teenager.

"Er, hello."

"Sup, England? Long time, no see, big bro!"

"A-America?" _How did he grow up so fast?_

"Who else?"

"I-I'm glad you made it back here, you must've been so - !" America held up his hand.

"You can screw the sentimental crap, England." The Brit was taken aback. Was this really the same kid? "I came back here to declare war."

"What?" England was in a complete state of shock – America had just left his house twenty minutes ago!

"I…came…here…to…declare…war," America enunciated slowly. _Oh, so I'm the two year old now – wait, war? Why?" _

"Why?" England echoed his own thoughts aloud.

"Because I need to become an independent nation!" He pulled a musket out of nowhere. "I'm the hero now!"

* * *

><p>"Hahahahahaha!" America threw back his head and laughed jauntily, shouldering his rifle. "So long, England!" He started to walk away, but paused and turned his head.<p>

"By the way," England lifted his head hopefully, "I hate you! Hahahaha!" The American skipped away, laughing.

England slumped against a wall, depressed, and touched the stinging musket wound in his shoulder. His imaginary friends appeared around him once more.

_At least you guys will always be my friends, _England thought, patting Mr. Unicorn affectionately (he wasn't very clever at all with names – if Britain were left to it, America's name most likely would have been Britain II).

"Got beat up again, huh?"

And so, in one day, Britain had gone mad, created a sibling, made an enemy, and gotten beat up. Twice.

* * *

><p>Yes, twenty minutes <em>is<em> a long time.

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